Reflections
by Madgie
Summary: Mabel Chiltern is not so carefree as she would like society to think; alone in her room she reflects on her morning so far and steels herself for that to come.  Based off Oscar Wilde's play 'An Ideal Husband'. Pairing: Mabel/Goring
1. Chapter 1

I have always loved Oscar Wilde's plays, especially _An Ideal Husband_. Mabel and Goring are such a dysfunctional couple, spending almost the entirety of the play flirting with each other mercilessly (though, Mabel's love for him is quite evident from early on as she points out to him when he does finally propose). The inspiration for this came from watching the 1990s film adaptation with Minnie Driver and Rupert Everett. The film has a scene where she confronts him about being engaged, ascertains he is not, only to be disappointed yet again when he does not take the opportunity propose to her then. The scene ends with her threatening to accept the expected proposal from Tommy Trafford the next day. In the play she comes from having been stood up by Goring that morning (the arrangement having been made in Act 2), and refuses to speak to him at first. She then goads him by referencing Tommy's proposal as, "It is one of Tommy's days for proposing." and when he indignantly protests she says that she very nearly did accept him on principle because Goring had stood her up and that, "...it would have been an excellent lesson both for him and for you if I had. It would have taught you both better manners."

Obviously, the point of Oscar Wilde is that that it is so flamboyant and ridiculous. I just thought that as Mabel does love Goring so very much, that she _must_ have been very hurt at his standing her up. Let me know if you like it, and if Goring's reflections from the same act would interest you.

So, without further ado, I shall leave you to my first foray into the world of fanfiction. xx

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**Reflections: Mabel**

Mabel Chiltern was furious. In fact, she was quite certain that she had never been quite so angry in the entirety of her existence. Catching sight of her reflection in her dressing-table mirror, she let out a frustrated growl - it was a jolly good thing that she had had the foresight _not_ to call Gertrude after all, she would most decidedly have attempted to calm her down. And Mabel was in no mood for calming down. Not yet, in any case. Not only had she had to suffer the humiliation of Lord Goring breaking their appointment - and not an apology, or message, to let her know in advance had there been! - but in her misery she had somehow failed to avoid Tommy Trafford as well. Naturally, he had proposed. Again.

But that was not what was bothering her. No, she was not cross that Tommy had proposed - although his manner of proposing could still do with some improvement, Gertrude evidently had not taken her request to heart the other day... Mabel was cross with herself, and this was a rare occurrence, as she had had many opportunities over the last few months to be cross with herself and had adamantly refused to be so for the simple reason that embarrassment about her conduct with Lord Goring was expected by the rest of London society - ah! There it was. The source of her misery and heartache. A little sigh escaped her, and she allowed herself to slump back onto the edge of her bed as she fought back the tears that had suddenly made an appearance. _She would not cry_. A deep breath, and count to ten... Too late.

He _must_ know. _Surely_ he was not so oblivious? That everyone else knew she was certain. She had had to endure Gertrude's knowing smiles and raised eyebrows all season, whenever Lord Goring - _Arthur_ - came to the house. She adored him. The mere _suggestion_ that he might call set her stomach aflutter, and Gertrude knew it. She relished their flirtatious banter, although at times she admittedly found herself at a loss to differentiate between the sincere and the jokes. And she was loathe to end the charade, though it had reached the point where it could go no further. Either he would propose, or it would end and they would have to be common and indifferent acquaintances... A horrifying thought! Yet, this breaking of their appointment this morning had proved it to be so. She had been so upset, so _utterly_ humiliated at his cavalier attitude to their arrangement that when Tommy had, well, _found_ her despite her avoiding him as per Lord Goring' request, she very nearly accepted his proposal out of the sheer need in that instant for someone to want her. Only for the fact that Lady Markby had chosen that exact moment to ride by, and call out to her as she went past, she might very well have done so. As it was, she had had time to recollect her thoughts, and had managed to refuse Tommy in, _almost_, her usual manner.

Taking a steadying breath, and wiping away with her handkerchief the treacherous tears that had escaped down her cheeks, she stood up and began to change out of her riding clothes. James had said when she arrived back that Lord Goring and his father were in the morning room. Well, she would just have to show Lord Goring how very much she disapproved of his conduct this morning and if he had not proposed to her by the end of the day then she would just have to accept that invitation from her Aunt to accompany her to Brighton. The remembrance of this invitation caused a momentary rush of guilt as she thought of the letter lying in her writing desk, the reply shamefully overdue. Shaking her head, she took a last look in the mirror and smoothed out her dress. Yes, she looked quite stunning. Perfect.

_To war_.


	2. Chapter 2

So yes, it has been literally half a year since I published Mabel... Sorry! Thank you to Lady Dudley who read and reviewed - and asked for more.

This has actually been sitting on my laptop for a while, and I finally finished it tonight. I think I'll do a long one for the actual proposal and work in quotes from the play, though I can't say when it will be posted... Hopefully sooner than six months though!

Enjoy! xx

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**Reflections: Arthur**

If someone had told Arthur Goring a year ago that by the end of this season that he, Lord Arthur Goring would have fallen deeply, desperately, _passionately_ in love - so much so as to want nothing more than to whisk his beloved away as soon as feasible to marry her - he would have laughed pityingly at the fool who had suggested such a thing. He would have then proceeded to dismiss their suggestion scathingly with a particularly cutting witticism. He, Lord Goring, _get married_? The idea was certainly laughable. Marriage? No. Not a chance. Lord Arthur Goring did not become "enamoured"; he did not "fall in love". Not desperately, not _passionately_. Not. At. All.

And yet, it would seem - at last - that the joke was on him.

Of course he had never been indifferent to her - how could anyone feel anything akin to indifference when in the company of such a creature? He was also fully aware of the gossip surrounding the pair of them - having been subjected as he had been to the bawdy jokes of his peers and the sly insinuations of the society women how could he not? He would have had to have been utterly and completely _obliviously_ idiotic not to have heard it. He supposed he should have been more careful, more discreet, in his interactions with her but she was just so... so... what? _Terrifying_? _Wonderful_? _Utterly magnificent_? She was one of the few people in the world who understood him, who had not attempted to change him in the same way as his father and all those society ladies Arthur had had hurled at him were desirous of doing - and "hurled" was the only accurate word in this context.

He was damned if he would let that Trafford get his hands on her. Perhaps that was the most terrifying part of it all. This jealousy; the fact that the _very thought_ of Tommy Trafford had him clenching his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. _That Mabel knew it did_. Whether consciously or not he was unsure, but surely, _surely_ she must be aware that he behaved differently towards her, that he would - often rather abruptly and extremely rudely - abandon whatever conversation he was having as soon as she entered the room. Although he would never dash across the room to hover desperately about her person as _some people_ were wont to do. No, he would circle, he would catch her eye and smirk knowingly at her as she expressed her exasperation at whatever suitor was dancing attendance on her with a slight widening of her eyes, or quirk of her eyebrow. And then they would slowly make their way towards each other, as though being pulled by some invisible force, that same force that caused his throat to constrict and his palms to moisten before he caught himself and regained control. _Did she feel this?_

And now this whole ridiculous mess with that Cheveley woman had caused him to miss the appointment which he had promised faithfully to keep, the one that he had felt even as he made it should not be broken - _could not_ be broken if he had any wish to gain a more intimate acquaintance with her. _And by God, did he!_ Where were his pithy comments now? Oh, he knew now he could face the knowing looks of Society if he could have her by his side always. Now, when it might be too late! He snorted in derision at his own sentimentality - the very sentimentality he had scoffed at in others, those friends who had found love. It had been Robert who had smiled pityingly and replied with a shake of his head,

_"Oh, you'll see Arthur... Some woman will come along whom you cannot simply dismiss with one of your cynical jokes, and you'll understand."_

And understand he did. Oh, if he could but get this ridiculous farce in which Robert had entangled them all over with... If Miss Mabel could forgive him... If -

The clearing of someone's throat pulled him from his reverie. The footman. Ah, they had arrived at the Chiltern's. Swallowing nervously he alighted from the carriage.

Well, at least she would not be at home for another little while... No, best not think of that. With any luck Robert and Gertrude would be sorted out this morning at any rate. And then... Well... _Then_. Straightening his back he pulled sharply on the bell-pull and waited foe the butler to answer.

_Battle stations._


End file.
